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LOVE POEMS AND 
SONNETS 



Love Poems 



and Sonnets 



OWEN INNSLY 



V 




^eronU !5tii: 



BOSTON 
A- WILLIAMS AND COMPANY 

Old Corner Bookstore 
1882 




^^ 






Copyright, 1882, 
By a. Williams & COc 



University Press: 
John Wilson & Son, Cambridge. 



3k 



DEDICATION. 

Mov'sT thou, perchance, in strange and 

starry spheres 
Afar, beyond the impenetrable night 
That shrouds the tomb, smiHng at the 

old fears 
Of death, encircled by all-conquering 

light ? 
Or dost thou sleep where thy last bed 

was made, 
Beneath the violets and the scented 

grass, 
Careless alike of sunshine and of shade, 
Of morns that linger and of eves that 

pass ? 

Ah ! who shall say ? No eye can pierce 

the dark. 
No strained ear tidings catch of weal or 

woe 
Out of the silence ; and no single spark 
Illumes that portal through which all 



8 DEDICA TIOJV. 

Yet this we know : Death is a kind of 

birth, 
And brings one sacred immortality ; 
Thou livest in thy traces left on earth ; 
Thou livest in thy children's memory. 

And one of these, binding the varied 

flowers, 
With tinted petals and with shining 

leaves, 
Fall'n on his path in sad and happy 

hours, 
As one might bind the ripened corn in 

sheaves, 
Dear blossoms of the heart and brain, — 

such sprays 
And blooms as wither not, but nod and 

wave 
Forever, — the completed garland lays 
With loving hands upon thy quiet grave. 



CONTEXTS. 



PAGE 

Dedication 7 

LOVE POEMS AND 50XXET5. 

Waiting . 15 

Nature and Love 17 

Helen 20 

An Evening Ride 24 

Departure 26 

CuiZ:-:^ 2S 

A Zrti- :: Dea;li 30 

T^ie Ee::er Par: 33 

Compensation 35 

Gifts of the Gods 37 

Shadows 39 

A Rosary jlz 

Helena's Song ......... 41 

Amor Leggero 42 

Burnt Ships 44 

Outre-Mort 45 

Light-Houses 47 

Laurels 49 



lO CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Jewels .... 51 

Liebesbitte 53 

My Queen 54 

" One \Yay of Love " 56 

Mortalis 58 

Thine Eyes 60 

Dependence 62 

Submission 64 

Love's Calendar 65 

Islands -67 

Snow-Drops 69 

Love's Abode 71 

Storm and Calm • • ' 72 

Serving 75 

The Burden of Love 'jy 

A Simile 78 

Blossoms of Love 79 

Deprecation 81 

Nepenthe S3 

Si> ZwT-^p ... 84 

In a Letter 86 

Titles 88 

After Absence 90 

Bondage 92 

Witch-Hazel 93 

Calm 95 

Symphonic Fantastique 97 

Idem non Aliter 98 



CONTENTS. 1 1 

PAGE 

The Sleeping Beauty 99 

Friendship and Love 102 

The Troubadour 104 

" The Greek Youth '' 106 

Wanderleben ic8 

Her Roses no 

At the Convent 112 

Faust and Helena 113 

Two Figures 116 

Service 118 

Communion 120 

MISCELLANEOUS. 

Impatience 125 

Im Freien 127 

Propitiation 129 

Musa Loquitur 131 

Waking 133 

The Rose and the Statue 136 

Wonders 138 

In Memoriam 141 

From Naples to Rome 144 

Giardino Giusti 146 

Fountains in Rome 148 

A Roma 150 

On the Pincian 152 

Aftermath 155 

A Prayer 157 



12 COX TEXTS. 

PAGE 

Xa?pe! 158 

Schumann's Symphony in B Flat 

Major 160 

Joachim 162 

Rubinstein 163 

Chopin 165 

"Mein Tag war heiter, glucklich 

meine Nacht " 167 

To R. W. E 169 

Chaucer 171 

At Sea 173 

A Voyage 176 

Kings 178 

Weaving 180 

A Shattered Glass 182 

Surplus 184 

Florence 1S6 

Shelley 188 

Cor Cordium 189 

Rome after 1870 191 

To Rome 193 

Antinous of the Vatican 197 

A Bas-Relief 199 

Addio a Roma 201 

On Leaving Italy 202 



LOVE POEMS AND SON- 
NETS. 



WAITING. 

I COUNT the days, — 
The lovely days, the weary days ; 
From east to west they softly go, 

Silent and slow. 

Green is the earth 
With budding grass ; the wondrous birth 
Of spring and hope, wide as it spreads, 

New glory sheds. 

The air is sweet. 
Here snowy petals strew the street; 
Here lean against the garden-wall 

The lilacs tall. 

The cuckoo cries, 
And in his frequent note there lies 



1 6 WAITING. 

The count of years where brain and 
nerve 

Must toil and serve.^ 

But youth is strong, 
And unappalled it fronts the long 
Array, of days — which must be fair 

If thou art there — 

When I may learn 
My will to thine to bend and turn, 
To meet thy mood, and more and more 

Love and adore. 

The world is dear 
And good ; I dare not shed a tear. 
I sing my songs of love and praise, 

And count the days. 

Dresden, May^ 1875. 

^ There is a German superstition that one who 
listens to the cuckoo will live as many years as he 
hears repetitions of the bird's cry. 



NATURE AND LOVE. 

Day after day I watch the fine 

Dividing hne, 
Scarcely discerned, 'twixt sea and sky ; 

Beneath me lie 
Smooth shining sands, and overhead 

Clear heavens outspread. 

Day after day, through balmy hours, 

I pluck the flowers 
From heavy-laden shrub and tree ; 

The fleur-de-hs. 
Purple and tall, and blue-eyed grass 

Bloom where I pass. 

Often the wood-bird's clear note rings. 

And insect wings 
FHt gay and glittering down the breeze : 

And gold-ringed bees 
Drink from a fragrant flower-cup 

Its sweet draughts up. 



1 8 NATURE AND LOVE, 

Here 'mid the scented pines I dream, 

Until I seem 
A monarch in an ancient time, — 

A time suMime, 
When earth gave all men, frank and free, 

What she gives me. 

But often, when the restless waves 

My light boat braves, 
A mariner destined to explore 

An unknown shore 
Am I. All day beneath the sun. 

My voyage begun, 

I sing glad songs of conquering men, 

Though silent when 
The moon her pale flame lights above. 

And crowned with love. 
What in that word I half express, 

Dost thou not guess 1 

A dearer hope than nature gives 

Forever lives, 
Filling my soul. There floods my heart 

A joy apart 
From seas or flowers or glowing noons. 

Or suns or moons. 



NATURE AND LOVE, 19 

Through all the glory and the grace 

I see thy face ; 
In the waves' whisper, soft and clear, 

Thy voice I hear ; 
Thy smile through every hour doth fall, 

And blesses all. 



HELEN. 

Without the walls of Troy the Grecian 
host, 

Encamped, lav, spent and wear}' with the 

fight. " 

Eve after eve they watched the golden 

light 
Of suns whose splendors seemed to 

mock them most 
When most they prayed : for morn on 

morn they rose 
To suiter fresh defeats and bear new 

woes. 

They could not curse, because she was 
so fair, 

The cause of all the ruin : but the bands 

Of heroes stretched to heaven beseech- 
ing hands, 

While, wrung from lips grown pallid 
with despair. 



HELEN. 21 

A cry arose throughout the camp's do- 
main, 
Reechoing far across the barren plain, 
Till all the midnight air 
One name did bear, — 
Helen ! Helen ! Helen ! 



Within the walls of Troy the fires blazed 
bright, 

And song and dance were gay, and wine 
flowed free. 

Where, flushed with joy and pride and 
victory, 

They held their revels far into the night, 

Nor paused to listen to the warning 
voice 

That bade them rather tremble than re- 
joice. 

But lifting high their wine-cups crowned 

with flowers, 
" O loveliest lady of the land of Greece, 
Whose bright eyes, bringing glory, lead 

to peace, 
We drink to thee through all the happy 

hours," 



22 . HELEN-. 

They cried, and poured the crimson 

juices out, 
Pledging her deep and long with shout 
on shout, 

Till all the midnight air 
One name did bear, — 
Helen ! Helen ! Helen ! 

Our hearts are battle-fields ; within them 
rage 

The conflicts that despair and doubt and 
pain 

With love and beauty and their count- 
less train 

Of pleasures and of pomps forever wage. 

Now Sorrow spreads her pall and claims 
the fight ; 

Now her pale hosts surrender to de- 
light. 

But whether, tossing on mad waves of 

joy, 
I drink great draughts of rapture as of 

wine, 
Or, sunk beneath a chill and bitter 

brine, 
I lie the prey of every vile annoy, 



HELEN, 23 

One image rules each smile, controls 

each sigh, 
And like the men of old to her I cry, 
Till all the midnight air 
One name doth bear — 
Helen ! Helen ! Helen ! 



AN EVENING RIDE. 

FROM GLASHUTTE TO MUGELN IN 
SAXONY. 

We ri^e and ride. High on the hills 
The fir-trees stretch into the sky ; 

The birches, which the deep calm stills 
Quiver again as we speed by. 

Beside the road a shallow stream 
Goes leaping o'er its rocky bed : 

Here lie the corn-fields with a gleam 
Of daisies white and poppies red. 

A faint star trembles in the west ; 

A fire-fly sparkles, fluttering bright 
Against the mountain's sombre breast ; 

And yonder shines a village Hght. 

Oh ! could I creep into thine arms 
Beloved ! and upon thy face 



AN EVENING RIDE. 25 

Read the arrest of dire alarms 
That press me close ; from thy em- 
brace 

View the sweet earth as on we ride. 

Alas ! how vain our longings are ! 
Already night is spreading wide 

Her sable wing, and thou art far. 



DEPARTURE. 

The hours go on. 
Up from the leaden-colored sea 
The autumn wind sweeps chillingly,^ 
# And she is gone. 

Like tears that drain 
The heart until its springs are dry, 
So drains the sources of the sky 

The falling rain. 

The white ships sail 
Like ghosts towards some mysterious 

tryst 
Hastening ; and vanish in the mist, 
Silent and pale. 

From clasping hands 
And clinging lips, from love and care 
Of dear ones left, they dear ones bear 

To unknown lands. 



DEPARTURE. 2/ 

The circling shore 
Lies lonely ; the receding wave 
Moans like that whisper from the grave 

Heard evermore 

By widowed hearts : 
'' Unfettered by the bonds of years, 
And deaf to prayers, untouched by tears, 

Each one departs." 

O Love ! O Grief ! 
Your mingled notes I singing wake, 
With trust that song for her dear sake 

May bring relief. 



CUI BONO? 

Wherefore the vigils and the tears, 
The flight of dreams when night appears, 
The short repose, the long unrest, 
The wearied throbbings of the breast, 
And utter impotence of will ; 
The shifting of the pillow till 
A dull beam strikes the window-pane 
And daylight struggles in again ? 

Were it indeed for her dear sake — 
If she might slumber while I wake — 
If, for my tossings to and fro. 
Her limbs profounder rest might know — 
But sleep, because it shuns my eyes, 
On hers no whit the gentler lies ; 
And all the tears that I can shed 
Bring no new blessing to her bed. 

Love ! how overbold art thou. 

1 am thy slave ; my heart I bow. 



CUT BONO ? 29 

But one grace I demand of thee : 
Torture not unavailingly. 
Let mercy guide thee ; do not keep 
Chained in thy toils the swift-winged 

Sleep. 
Give me, too ceaselessly oppressed, 
A little while a little rest. 



A DREAM OF DEATH. 

HELENA. 

Du hast mich beschworen aus dem Grab 

Durch deinen Zauberwillen, 
Belebtest mich mit Wollustgluth, 

Jetzt kannst du die Gluth nicht stillen. 

Press deinen Mund auf meinen Mund, 
Der Menschen Odem ist gottlich, 

Ich trinke deine Seele aus, 
Die Todten sind unersattlich. 

Heine. 

I died ; they wrapped me in a shroud, 
With hollow mourning, far too loud. 
And sighs that were but empty sound, 
And laid me low within the ground. 
I felt her tears through all the rest ; 
Past sheet and shroud they reached my 
breast ; 



A DREAM OF DEATH. 3 1 

They warmed to life the frozen clay, 
And I began to smile and say : 
At last thou lov'st me, Helena ! 

I rose up in the dead of night ; 
I sought her window ; — 't was a-light. 
A pebble clattered 'gainst the pane, — 
" Who 's there ? the wind and failing 

rain ? " 
*' Ah ! no ; but one thy tears have led 
To leave his chill and narrow bed 
To warm himself before thy breath ; 
Who for thy sake has conquered death. 
Arise, and love me, Helena ! " 

She oped the door, she drew me in. 
Her mouth was pale, her cheek was 

thin ; 
Her eyes were dim ; its length unrolled. 
Fell loosely down her hair of gold. 
My presence wrought her grief's eclipse ; 
She pressed her lips upon my hps, 
She held me fast in her embrace. 
Her hands went wandering o'er my face : 
At last thou lov'dst me, Helena ! 

The days are dark, the days are cold, 
And heavy hes the churchyard mould. 



32 A DREAM OF DEATH, 

But ever, at the deep of night, 
Their faith the dead and living plight. 
Who would not die if certain bliss 
Could be foreknown ? and such as this 
No life — away ! the hour is nigh, 
With heart on fire she waits my cry : 
Arise, and love me, Helena ! 



THE BETTER PART. 

Because in love, my love ! there are 
Two parts to choose, the near, the far, 
The humble moth, the glittering star ; 

Since one is vassal, one is lord, 
One the adorer, one the adored. 
One speaks, and one obeys the word ; 

Since one must watch and ever keep 
A faithful guard that one may sleep, 
Since one must sow, and one must reap ; 

Since one must wear, and one adorn, 
One pluck the rose, and one the thorn. 
One know the night, and one the morn ; 

Since one must give, and one must take, 
One yield his heart for one to break. 
Content e'en thus for love's dear sake ; 



34 THE BETTER PART 

I, dearest, choose the better part ; 
I choose the sorrow and the smart, 
The full surrender of the heart. 

I choose the better part to-day, 
Forever, which no fate can sway, 
And nought but death can take away. 



COMPENSATION. 

Since Heaven has given to me to wear 
The crown of love august and fair, 
Is it not fit that I should bear 
Its cross as well, without despair ? 

Since I may sow the precious seed, 
And cull its flowers to fill my need, 
Is it a fatal thing indeed 
If from their thorns my hands must 
bleed ? 

Since I may drink the draught divine 
Down to the dregs, if sometimes brine 
Be mingled with the glowing wine, 
Shall I then murmur or repine ? 

O thou ! who — whatsoe'er thou art, 
Thou great and universal heart ! 
Thou soul of love ! since pain and smart 
Form of thy perfect whole a part, 



36 COMPENSATION, 

My destined portion let me take. 
While at thy boundless streams I slake 
My thirst and gather strength to make 
A joy of sorrow for love's sake. 



GIFTS OF THE GODS. 

The gods bestow on men wisdom and 

art 
To stir with noble counsel and brave 

deed 
The flagging pulses of a fellow-heart, 
And minister to need. 

To pierce the subtle secrets of the 
globe ; 

To read the records of the lands and 
seas ; 

And stars that seam the midnight's sa- 
ble robe — 

Great Nature's mysteries. 

And that all lore the breasts of all may 

reach, 
And into new exalted regions lift, 
They send the power of soul-compelling 

speech, 

And song's diviner gift. 



38 GIFTS OF THE GODS, 

From me they veiled their higher knowl- 
edge, hid 

The paths of light and calm that lie 
above 

The common round — my feeble lisp- 
ings chid, 

But taught me how to love. 



SHADOWS. 

She leaned from out the mystic space 
Of Shadow-land. As on the wall 

The shapes the iire-hght casts, her face 
Flickered and faded ; — that was all. 

Like phantoms starting on the wold, 
When dusk defeats the clear-eyed day, 

Her form rose ; but when arms would 
hold 
And clasp, it vanished quite away. 

Now we are shadows both. Above 

The grave of hoped-for, future bliss 
Two pale wraiths stand. O Sister ! 
Love ! 
Reach me thy lips. Can shadows 
kiss? 



A ROSARY. 

Like pearls that form a rosary, 
So lie in shining rows for me, 

Strung on a golden thread of Time, 
The precious hours I know with thee. 

And, filled with love and praise of thee, 

As one who tells his rosary, 
I count upon the beads of Time 

The benisons thou bringest me. 

Oh ! may such hours still dawn for me. 

So rich in love, so filled with thee, 
And glisten on the robe of Time 

A never-ending rosary. 



HELENA'S SONG. 

Between the olives and the pines 
The vineyards slope to meet the shore- 

The sun in skies unsullied shines 
Till evening lends a charm the more. 

The fragrant breath of orange-flowers 
Perfumes the sleepy summer air, 

And all the slow-revolving hours 
A garb of pomp and beauty wear. 

What were it all, O Love ! my Love 1 
But that with thee its joy I know ? 

Thou art my dazzling heaven above, 
And thou my fertile field below. 

Thou art my wave-encircled land, 
And thou alone my central sea. 

My spirit leaps at thy demand 
To drown, to lose itself in thee. 



AMOR LEGGERO. 

Che son io per te ? 
Una rosa che il fiato 
Del caso ti soffia sul sentier, 
Destando nel cor tuo triste e scorag- 
giato 
Delia sua primavera un breve pensier. 
Raccogli per poco V umil fior, 
Ed egli si muor. 

Che sei tu per me ? 
Un dolce e caldo raggio 
Che manda della vita il piu bel sol, 
A ranimar nel petto i cari di del Maggio, 
Mentre il mondo intier del freddo si 
duol. 
Ma cade la notte e il mio cor 
S' agghiaccia allor. 

Ebben, e sia cosi ! 
Non pianger si picciol cosa. 



AMOR LEGGERO. 43 

Godiamo aim en la fugace felicitk. 
Godiamo il caldo del sol, il soave odor 
della rosa, 
Finche la notte vien e il profumo sen 
va. 
Coprimi di bad mentre 1' amor 
Vive ancor. 



BURNT SHIPS. 

See H. H:s Sonnet, ''Burnt Ship?^ 

Upon the hopeless desert of her love 
I landed, lured by glamours on her face. 
And, scarce on shore, — a desolate 

strange place, — 
I said, — but surely some green cedar 

grove 
Awaits me, proffering its cooling shade, 
And in its depths melodious fountains 

spring. 
So tear the canvas from the masts and 

bring 
Planks, beams, and spars until the pile 

be laid. 
Then with my own mad hands I lit the 

fire, 
And watched with fevered eyes the dark 

mass burn, 
So blotting out the prospect of return. 
But daily cools the pulse of my desire, 
And bitter is the redness of her lips. 
Oh ! god of love, why did I burn my 

ships ? 



OUTRE-MORT. 

Suppose the dreaded messenger of 

death 
Should hasten steps that seem, though 

sure, so slow, 
And soon should whisper with his chilly 

breath : 
" Arise ! thine hour has sounded, thou 

must go ; 
For they that earliest taste life's holiest 

feast 
Must early fast, lest, grown too bold, 

they dare 
Of them that follow after seize the 

share/' 
Then, though my pulse's beat forever 

ceased, 
If where I slumbered thou shouldst 

chance to pass, 
Though grave-bound, I thy presence 

should discern. 



46 OUTRE-MORT. 

Heedless of coffin-lid and tangled grass, 

Upward to kiss thy feet my lips would 
yearn ; 

And did one spark of love thy heart in- 
flame, 

With the old rapture I should call thy 



LIGHT-HOUSES. 

When pales the sunset flush along the 
sky, 

When the sea's azure deepens into gray, 

The light-house lamps flash out across 
the bay, 

Their cheerful beams proclaiming, — 
" This way lie 

Perils, and that way safety : ye who 
roam, 

Searching for foreign shores, with cau- 
tion steer ; 

And ye returning, lo ! the land is near. 

And yonder waits the harbor which is 
home." 

Such is thy part ; thou art my beacon- 
light 

Standing the open passage to disclose, 

Against unsafe and treacherous ways to 



48 LIGHT-HOUSES, 

Nor ever did a dark and stormy night 
Obscure my path, but that bright flame 

arose 
And shone with steadfast radiance till 

the morn. 



LAURELS. 

I WOULD cull laurels — not for pride or 

fame. 
When grave shades fall on him that lieth 

low, 
All honor shrivels to an empty name ; 
Alike are praise and blame, sunshine 

and snow. 
But I would pluck the rarest flowers that 

spring 
From mortal effort, gems that deepest 

sleep 
In human possibility, to fling 
Low at thy feet the gorgeous ghttering 

heap, 
That endless splendors might thy name 

surround ; 
That men beholding thine imperial mien. 
And the rich jewels wherewith thou wert 

crowned, 
Might cry with awed, rapt voice : " Be- 
hold the queen ! " 



50 LAURELS. 

That thou, so greeted, might'st grow 

proud the while, 
And know love's work and bless me with 

a smile. 



JEWELS. 

Kings have a royal custom that I love. 

In common times bringing the priceless 
gems 

That on high fete-days crown their dia- 
dems, 

And of each stone setting the name 
above, 

As, — This is such a pearl ; such dia- 
mond this ; 

They spread them where the general eye 
may see 

And grow to brilliance in their brilHancy. 

I too have jewels, jewels of pure bhss. 

Brighter than pearls and diamonds, and 
more rare, — 

Of song, speech, silence, presence, ab- 
sence ; turn 

Which way you will their deathless 
splendors burn ; 



52 JEWELS, 

So by my mood men guess which one I 

wear, 
And in my gladness see the others shine, 
For I am faint with joy to know them 

mine. 



LIEBESBITTE. 

In years to come I ask thee not to say : 
" I loved him once ; once I did hold him 

dear : " 
Ah no ! long since I put that hope away, 
And buried it in smiles, without a tear. 
But say : '' 'Mid all who worshipped at 

my feet, 
Exalting me, 'mid all who loved me best, 
As I remember now, I think there beat 
No heart more fondly in a single breast, 
No eyes that brightened quicker when I 

came. 
No hand that lay more longingly in mine. 
No voice that knew a tenderer tone to 

name 
My name than his whose love seemed 

half divine." 
If this thou say, though I be dead the 

while. 
The words will reach me, I shall hear 

and smile. 



MY QUEEN. 

She has been queen too long whom I 

adore, 
Mistress of men and moulder of their 

will, 
For homage such as mine to reach the 

core 
Of her proud heart, or teach it one new 

thrill. 
Yet have I heard that royal rulers know 
Such greed for power, that, for some strip 

of land, 
Some province stored with vineyards, or 

where stand 
Long rows of waving corn and grain, 

they throw, 
Like rubbish, honor, wealth, and fame 

away. 
And, as 't were water, spill the blood of 

men. 
If this be so, perchance to increase thy 

sway 



MY QUEEN, 55 

By one poor heart's extent thou 'rt fain. 

Oh! then 
Stretch out thy hand to me, and with a 

mien 
Of graciousness look on me, oh ! my 

queen. 



"ONE WAY OF LOVE." 

To love thee, sweet, is as if one should 

love 
A marble statue of perfected form, 
Which, on the spot that hot lips lie 

above, 
A tiny spot, grows for an instant warm : 
The moment passed, straightway 't is 

cold again, 
Returning to its first proud lifeless 

grace ; 
Keeping no memory of the close em- 
brace, 
Nor from the warm red hps one scarlet 

stain. 
But what of that ? Why should I be 

distressed 
Though thou art cold as stone ? Let me 

be brave 
If but for once, and love for nothing 

save 



''ONE WAY OF love:' 57 

For love's sake only ; for he loveth best 
And brightest does his flame of passion 

burn 
Who giveth all things asking no return. 



MORTALIS. 

If thou shouldst die, BelovM, — fatal 

thought 
That curdles all the blood along my 

veins, 
And as with foul and poisonous vapor 

stains 
The glad day's beauty, — though with 

anguish fraught 
Our parting, I would fain be near, that 

nought 
Might miss me of the swift and torturing 

pains 
Such loss would nourish, — for my soul 

disdains 
A peace of ignorance or oblivion bought. 
And, Love ! I would not be the first 

to go, 
Lest thy dear eyes might drop a single 

tear, 



MO RT A LIS. 59 

Remembering one who worshipped them 

so well ; 
Or lest some sudden pang thy breast 

might know, 
When, half forgetting, thou shouldst 

chance to hear 
Some careless voice my name and story 

tell. 



THINE EYES. 

In other days, Beloved, when the world 
Has stepped between us, and thou 

seem'st to be 
Far off, — when half effaced my memory 
By mists of sweeter incense round thee 

curled 
Than I can offer, — when, like dead 

leaves whirled 
Before a storm, my glad dreams break 

and flee 
Before relentless fate's reality — 
When youth and joy their golden wings 

have furled — 
Even then, O Love ! I shall not quite 

despair ; 
Even then, upon my weary heart and 

sore 
A gentle after-sunset glow will rise 
And comfort me ; some moments will be 

fair, 



THINE EYES, 6 1 

And looking back, I still shall smile once 

more, 
Remembering the old kindness of thine 

eyes. 



DEPENDENCE. 

What would life keep for me if thou 

shouldst go ? 
Beloved, give me answer ; for my art 
Is pledged unto thy service, and my 

heart 
Apart from thee nor joy nor grace doth 

know. 
No arid desert, no wide waste of snow, 
Looks drearier to exiled ones who start 
On their forced journey than, shouldst 

thou depart, 
This fair green earth to my dead hope 

would show. 
And like a drowning man who struggling 

clings 
With stiffened fingers to the rope that 

saves, 
Thrown out to meet his deep need from 

the land. 
So to thy thought I hold when sorrow's 

wings 



DEPENDENCE. 63 

Darken the sky, and 'mid the bitterest 

waves 
Of fate am succored by thy friendly 

hand. 



SUBMISSION. 

God forbid, dearest, that I should com- 
plain 
However hard and heavy be the cross 
Thou bidst me carry ; since to me all 

loss 
Incurred for thee turns straightway into 

gain. 
And by the side of thine inflicted pain 
All pleasure won from others is as dross 
Beside pure gold. Like summer winds 

that toss 
The branches of the trees whose trunks 

remain 
Unmoved, so sweep the floods of cir- 
cumstance, 
Ruffling alone the current of my mood, 
While my soul's deep repose they can- 
not shake. 
But at a word of thine, before thy glance, 
My spirit bows, knowing thy will is good. 
Eager to do or suffer for thy sake. 



LOVE'S CALENDAR. 

I TAKE no heed of month, or week, or 

day, 
Or of the times and seasons of the year. 
Springtime it is with me v/hen she is 

near, 
And winter when the clouds of absence 

stray 
Across my heaven, holding its sun at 

bay. 
The morning dawns when her dear eyes 

appear, 
And night shuts down upon me, blank 

and drear. 
When those consohng orbs are taken 

away. 
As earth is gladdened when the snows 

depart, 
When woods and meadows are no longer 

bare. 
But tender blossoms nestle in the grass, 

5 



66 LOVE'S CALENDAR, 

So, when my Love approaches, to my 
heart 

Her balmy breath brings floods of sum- 
mer air, 

And fresh flowers spring where'er her 
footsteps pass. 



ISLANDS. 

" Some unsuspected isle in far-off seas." — Browning. 

Beyond the sea-coast, where the level 

sea 
Stretches its shining length, some isle 

must rest, 
Cradled upon the ocean's bounteous 

breast. 
Where men might live untrammelled, 

glad, and free. 
Out of life's babbling current there must 

be 
Some unsuspected isle, Love's dear be- 
quest 
To those who follow him, where, safe 

and blest, 
Oh ! my beloved, I might dwell with 

thee. 
But ships are not found strong enough 

to bear 



68 ISLANDS, 

Adventurers over every ocean's foam ; 
Not all my thought, not all my love and 

care, 
Can build the bark in which we two 

might roam ; 
So still my voice assails the unheeding 

air 
With vain lamentings for that island 

home. 



SNOW-DROPS. 

Already once I 've brought you snow- 
drops, dear, 
From an old garden whose forgotten 

grace 
Seemed to revive again a little space 
To do you honor. Though March winds 

blow drear 
And chill, yet) with sweet sense that 

spring is near, 
These brave and hardy buds the snow 

displace ; 
Showing, each one, a white and shining 

face, — 
The earliest flowers of the awakening 

year. 
So, like the snow-drops, once for me 

there grew, 
Amid the snows of life, pure blossoms, 

when 



70 SNOW-DROPS. 

Your smile first rested on me, and I 

knew 
My springtime was at hand. To-day, 

again, 
The flowers of spring and love I bring 

to you, 
With heart unchanged and faithful now 

as then. 



LOVE'S ABODE. 

Up the white steps that lead to Love's 

abode 
I hastened, tarrying by the golden gate. 
" Ruler of gods and men," I cried, " I 

wait 
To pay my homage here where most 't is 

owed ! " 
Then the bright gate swung open, and 

bestowed 
An entrance, and Love's servants in 

sweet state 
Came out to meet and welcome me. 

Elate 
And proud, I followed where the way 

they showed : 
They led me to the temple door, whence 

gleam 
Soft lights, whence sweet scents float 

upon the air. 



72 LOVE'S ABODE. 

" Here wait our master's voice," they 

said, and then — 
They left me. When shall I be called, 

oh when, 
Into the inner sanctuary, where, 
Amid his chosen ones. Love reigns 

supreme ? 



STORM AND CALM. 

WHILE LISTENING TO A ST. SAENS CON- 
CERTO. 

The waves of love will dash me on a 

shore 
Trackless and waste, whence there is no 

return. 
My mast is split, my rudder gone ; 

they burn 
Like glowing coals, — these icy waves 

that pour 
Across my shattered deck ; the mad 

winds tore 
Long since my sails in shreds. The 

black heavens yearn 
To clasp the deep; no star can I dis- 
cern 
That might direct me till the storm were 

o'er. 
So rose the cry of one in agony, 



74 STORM AND CALM, 

Tossed on wide floods of passion, doubt, 

and dread. 
Then, as a clear morn smiles upon the 

sea, 
When a wild night has spread its wings 

and fled. 
So thy sweet eyes arose and shone on 

me. 
And peace and calm upon my soul were 

shed. 



SERVING. 

That thou 'rt not yet all mine why 

should I care ? 
Why grieve because the draught is scant 

and thin 
Which thy love offers for my tasting in 
Its fragile cup, at moments short and 

rare ? 
Fool should I be thus early to despair ! 
The labors of my love but now begin. 
Twice seven long years did Jacob serve 

to win 
Rachel, and dwelt with her long days 

and fair ; 
So I will serve for thee ; from land to 

land 
Gleaning and gathering, until twice seven 

years, 
And more, if need be, on their path shall 

roll; 



^6 SERVING. 

With fond assurance that we two shall 

stand 
At last, together, 'mid the blessed 

spheres 
Of love's domain, united soul to soul. 



THE BURDEN OF LOVE. 

I BEAR an unseen burden constantly ; 
Waking or sleeping I can never thrust 
The load aside ; through summer's heat 

and dust 
And winter's snows it still abides with 

me. 
I cannot let it fall though I should be 
Never so weary ; carry it I must. 
Nor can the bands that bind it on me 

rust 
Or break, nor ever shall I be set free. 
Sometimes 't is heavy as the weight that 

bore 
Atlas on giant shoulders ; sometimes 

light 
As the frail message of the carrier dove ; 
But, light or heavy, shifting never more. 
What is it thus oppressing, day and 

night ? 
The burden, dearest, of a mighty love. 



A SIMILE. 

At sea, far parted from the happy shore, 

The solitary rock lies all unmoved 

By the caressing waves, though unre- 

proved 
Their constant kisses on its breast they 

pour. 
So it stands witnessed by all human 

lore, 
Where'er the wanton god of love has 

roved, 
His shafts fell never equal ; one be- 
loved. 
One lover, there must be for evermore. 
Dear, if thou wilt, be thou that rock at 

sea. 
But let me be the waves that never leave 
Their yearning towards it through the 

ocean space ; 
And be thou the beloved, but let me 
Be the fond lover destined to receive 
And hold thee in love's infinite embrace. 



BLOSSOMS OF LOVE. 

Suggested by Dante RossettPs Sonnet^ " Passion 
and Worships 

The blossoms of my love are many-hued 

And manifold : some glow like tongues 
of fire 

With the hot dyes of passionate desire ; 

And some are white as snow, and heavy- 
dewed 

With fallen tears ; with modesty im- 
bued, 

Some bow their heads ; some, purple- 
robed, aspire 

To flaunt before the world their proud 
attire ; 

Some, soberer tinted, blush in solitude. 

And all these varied blooms I watch and 
tend 

And guard with constant care, untir- 
ingly, 

That they new grace and beauty may 
possess ; 



80 BLOSSOMS OF LOVE, 

And many a busy day and night I spend 
In weaving of their wealth a crown for 

thee. 
Beloved, wilt thou wear it ? Answer 

yes. 



DEPRECATION. 

ESTRELLA TO ALFONSO. 

A PALLID nun behind the iron bars 
Of fate, I sit and watch the roses blow 
That are for others with wan smiles ; 

and so 
I hear thy song sweep past me to the 

stars. 
Like haughty conquerors in triumphal 

cars, 
Thy mad hopes ride within thy breast, 

and go 
Dauntlessly into realms I do not know, 
And my pale peace thy passion breaks 

and mars. 
O friend ! cease, therefore, thy wild min- 
strelsy; 
No chord responsive vibrates in my 

breast, 

6 



82 DEPRECATION, 

And its dead ashes stir not at thy call. 
Then, for thy love's sake, since thou 

lovest me, 
Silence the voice I may not answer, lest, 
Striving to flee from it, I faint and fall. 



NEPENTHE. 

Unto Telemachus, who, journeying, 

sought 
At Menelaus' court tidings to hear 
Of great Odysseus, tarrying year on 

year, 
The fair-armed Helen sweet refreshment 

brought, — 
Nepenthe, Eastern juice. Such charm 

it wrought 
That whoso tasted it could shed no tear 
A whole day long : though all he held 

most dear 
Were struck with death, he knew and 

suffered naught. 
So thou, a later Helen, bringest me" 
A draught wherein oblivion and repose 
In cunning portions are together blent. 
I drink : my tears are dry, my soul can 

see 
No ill, and even sorrow's memory grows 
Forgotten in a nameless, deep content. 



SY 20THP. 

A WISE and famous nation held belief, 

Whoever in prosperity o'ergrew 

The bounds of temperate good, him 

would pursue 
The ever-jealous gods with loss and 

grief. 
Sometimes so golden is my harvest's 

sheaf, 
My way so flowery and my heaven so 

blue, 
I tremble lest, perchance, the immortals 

brew 
A storm to prove my fortune's sudden 

thief. 
But thou art my preserver even here, 
And earn'st me mercy from the envious 

skies ; 
Since, lacking thee, I lack the one thing 

dear, 



2Y 2GTHP. 85 

Which only were life's first and fairest 

prize ; 
For other joys are barren all and drear, 
Beside that one which a stern fate de- 
nies. 



IN A LETTER. 

There came a breath out of a distant 

time, 
An odor from neglected gardens where 
Unnumbered roses once perfumed the 

air 
Through summer days, in childhood's 

happy clime. 
There came the salt scent of the sea, the 

chime 
Of waves against the beaches or the 

bare, 
Gaunt rocks ; as to the mind, half una- 
ware. 
Recur the words of some familiar rhyme. 
And as above the gardens and the sea 
The moon arises, and her silver light 
Touches the landscape with a deeper 

grace, 



IN A LETTER, 8/ 

So o'er the misty wraiths of memory, 
Turning them into pictures clear and 

bright, 
Rose in a halo the beloved face. 



TITLES. 

Born sovereigns have no names but 

those bestowed 
In baptism ; Constance, Philip, — so each 

age 
Knows them, and deals of praise or 

blame their wage, 
As harvests of good fame or ill they 

sowed. 
So with the mighty, o'er whose cradle 

glowed 
The star of genius ; with that heritage 
Dante and Raphael shine on history's 

page 
Simple as when they walked our com- , 

mon road. 
Like thy great namesake, in whose cause 

the plain 
Of Troy was strewn with corpses, while 

above 



TITLES. 89 

Olympus heard the wrathful gods con- 
tend, 
So, 'mid the homage of respect and love 
Laid at thy feet by lover and by friend, 
Helen thou art, and Helen must remain. 



AFTER ABSENCE. 
After long years of absence had gone 

by, 

He stood again upon the parent shore 
Of stern New England; but his heart 

was sore, 
And his dulled bosom rent with many a 

sigh. 
He mourned the vanished gods, the ra- 
diant sky 
Of the dear land of love and song and 

lore ; 
He mourned the sweet companionships 

of yore. 
That on his path like scattered pearls 

did lie. 
But when she passed, as in the former 

days. 
With the old halo on her golden hair, 
With the old kindness and enchanting 

ways, 



AFTER ABSENCE. 9 1 

'T was as if some swift wind had cleared 

the air ; 
Before her smile he stood transfixed 

there ; 
He had forgotten that she was so fair. 



BONDAGE. 

" And this is freedom ! " cried the serf ; 

"At last 
I tread free soil, the free air blows on 

me ; " 
And, wild to learn the sweets of liberty, 
With eager hope his bosom bounded 

fast. 
But not for naught had the long years 

amassed 
Habit of slavery ; among the free 
He still was servile, and, disheartened, 

he 
Crept back to the old bondage of the 

past. 
Long did I bear a hard and heavy chain 
Wreathed with amaranth and asphodel, 
But through the flower-breaths stole the 

weary pain. 
I cast it off and fled, but 't was in vain ; 
For when once more I passed by where 

it fell, 
I took it up and bound it on again. 



WITCH-HAZEL. 

'T IS said that 'mid the sylvan shrubs 
that grow 

One has a wizard power above the rest ; 

Held o'er the soil it points its leafy 
crest 

To where the hidden sources sleep be- 
low. 

How must the gentle earth rejoice when 
flow 

The pent-up streams and ease the aching 
breast, 

Grown sore with guarding them ! And 
ah, how blest 

Those springs to men who need of water 
know ! 

Beloved, at thy touch the entire bliss 

Of being floods me ; in my heart straight- 
way 

Songs rise and gush and murmur with- 
out end. 



94 WITCH-HAZEL. 

And, dear, who knows but that, per- 
chance, some day. 
Some one may be a little glad for this 
That thou hast wrought, and bless thee 
through thy friend ? 



CALM. 

See H. H.^s Sonnet^ " The Zone of Calms.^'' 

Here let us rest within '*the zone of 
calms," 

Found now at last, whose delicate mys- 
teries 

Escaped us on the old tempestuous 
seas, 

Though their best gifts this charmed 
space embalms. 

Here are soft shadows as of darkling 
palms, 

Whose branches faintly rustle in the 
breeze 

Of summer morns, and gentle melodies 

As of hushed voices chanting low sweet 
psalms. 

The tyrant Time, plying his ceaseless 
oar, 

Will bear us farther all too soon, we 
know, — • 

Eastward and westward, parted as be- 
fore. 



96 CALM, 

But while we linger yet, each opposite 

shore 
Still indistinct, take speech, O Love, 

once more, 
And bless the rapturous stillness ere we 

go! 



SYMPHONIE FANTASTIQUE. 

We heard the symphony wherein the 
brain 

Of the mad poet fancies his love to be 

A sweet, ever-recurring melody, 

Piquing to pleasure, ministering to pain. 

Now ball-rooms echo it, now wood and 
plain 

Take up the burden ; joyous now and 
free 

It sounds, now sad and fraught with 
mystery : 

All life is interwoven with that strain. 

Thou art the melody of all my days, 

I but an accidental note in thine, 

Its value unobserved by alien ears. 

Remove it, still thy music is as fine ; 

But take thee from me, and the void dis- 
plays 

Discord and inharmonious fall of tears. 

7 



IDEM NON ALITER. 

Say not the charm is broken ; that the old 

Rapture has faded to a cool content ; 

That flowers so sweet at morn must lose 
their scent, 

When toward life's noon experience shall 
have rolled. 

Nor whisper that the tale so often told 

Fails in some measure of its blandish- 
ment ; 

Nor that the chord jangles wherein were 
blent 

All harmonies that music's voices hold. 

Ah, dear, a shining isle forever lies 

Beyond the track of ships, in the still sea, 

Where chains are hid in wooing, soft 
disguise. 

More blest than freedom seems captiv- 
ity ; 

For the old Circe looks from out thine 
eyes, 

And thy Odysseus does not wish to flee. 



THE SLEEPING BEAUTY. 



Guarded by walls of roses set v/ith 
thorns, 

Within her palace-room the princess 
slept, 

Nor heard how through the wood the 
loud chase swept. 

With bay of hounds and note of hunt- 
ing-horns. 

Into some dream of summer eves and 
morns 

Perchance a sudden thrill prophetic 
crept, 

As to her side one eager hunter leapt. 

Made strong by love that bans and bar- 
riers scorns. 

Before his tread, — as at some sharp 
blade's stroke 

A flower might fall, — the deep enchant- 
ment broke. 



lOO THE SLEEPING BEAUTY. 

He pressed his lips to hers in love's long 

kiss ; 
And as her name in rapturous tone he 

spoke, 
With happy, smiling eyes the princess 

woke 
To meet the new and unsuspected bliss. 



II. 



Once more in slumbering state a princess 

lay, 
While in the shadow of her palace- walls 
Unheeded died the glad and pleading 

calls 
Of love and joy the outer world that 

sway. 
But when towards evening sped her 

peaceful day, 
Despite a charm that soul and sense en- 
thralls, 
Into the stillness of her perfumed halls, 
On fire with love, I made my venturous 

way. 
Lo ! I have waked her with my ardent 

lips; 



THE SLEEPING BEAUTY. lOI 

Have seen the warm blood mantle in her 

cheek 
That surged impetuous round my own 

heart's core. 
Yet once again she sank in sleep's 

eclipse. 
Oh, be more powerful now the word I 

speak, 
The touch I give ! Sweet princess, sleep 

no more ! 



FRIENDSHIP AND LOVE. 

Friendship sat smiling on a flowery 

height, 
Watching the blooming groves, the 

meadows green, 
The peaceful stream that flowed the 

fields between. 
" How rich my realm," she breathed, 

" how glad, how bright ! '' 
But on a sudden fell a purple light, 
Deepening the tranquil beauty of the 

scene, 
Tingeing with amethyst hue the river's 

sheen, 
As Love drew near in majesty and 

might. 
" This is my kingdom, sister ! " quick 

he cried. 
" My paths are not all stormy ; there 

is calm 



FRIENDSHIP AND LOVE. 103 

Upon my mountains, and clear skies 

above. 
This radiant land thou viewest bears my 

balm, 
Profounder far than thine." Then 

Friendship sighed, 
But rose, and yielded up her seat to 

Love. 



THE TROUBADOUR. 

Thou Troubadour, roaming from land 
to land, 

Singing, indeed, we grant, one endless 
theme, — 

Thy lady's praise, — and striving to re- 
deem 

The pledges laid on thee by Love's com- 
mand, 

We are the truer lovers, we who stand 

Beside our mistress, though no silver 
stream 

Of song escape our lips. Thou art the 
dream. 

We the realities her eyes have scanned. 

''Know ye," he answered, "how those 
lilies grow 

That on the lake's breast seem to float 
apart 

And free, though fastened firm their 
roots below ? 



THE TROUBADOUR. IO5 

Thus do I seem before the wind and 

tide 
Of chance and change to sway from 

side to side ; 
But still my heart is anchored to her 

heart." 



'^THE GREEK YOUTH." 

*' He goes," she said : ^' there, at the 

opening door, 
I see a shimmer as of snowy wings ; 
'T is his white robe that as he passes 

flings 
Its shining undulation o'er the floor." 
But while she spoke, his fond arms as 

before 
Held her, his kiss burned on her lips ; 

as sings 
Some woodland bird, his voice's mur- 

murings 
Thrilled with the joyous weight of love 

he bore. 
'T was but the moonlight of thine own 

sad eyes 
That cast my shadow ; in thy silver 

sphere, 
Half dusk, half light, ghosts start at any 

breath. 



''THE GREEK YOUTH:' 107 

I bring the sunshine ; in it no surprise 
Can come, no shade can walk. Lo ! I 

am here, 
Bisloved, and shall be here unto death. 



WANDERLEBEN. 

He has no home, he owns no father- 
land ; 

His country is the hospitable earth. 

He shapes his course where, past the 
fields of dearth, 

The planet's greenest groves of plenty- 
stand ; 

But howsoever golden be the strand 

He treadeth, clearer than the sound of 
mirth 

And laughter steals the voice that still 
gives birth 

To his best joy, more potent than com- 
mand. 

Again and once again his ship he steers 

Into one harbor, hastening to the saint 

Before whose shrine his constant offer- 
ing glows. 

He heaps his treasure, won with blood 
and tears, 



WANDERLEBEN. IO9 

There at her feet ; praying, without com- 
plaint, 

Leave but to worship as he comes and 
goes. 



HER ROSES. 

Against her mouth she pressed the 

rose, and there, 
'Neath the caress of hps as soft and red 
As its own petals, quick the bright bud 

spread 
And oped, and flung its fragrance on the 

air. 
It ne'er again a bud's young grace can 

wear ? 
O love, regret it not ! It gladly shed 
Its soul for thee, and though thou kiss 

it dead 
It does not murmur at a fate so fair. 
Thus, once, thou breath'dst on me, till 

every germ 
Of love and song broke into rapturous 

flower, 
And sent a challenge upwards to the 

sky. 



HER ROSES. Ill 

What if too swift fruition set a term 
Too brief to all things ? I have lived 

my hour, 
And die contented, since for thee I die. 



AT THE CONVENT. 

I CANNOT pass beyond the jealous gate 
And the high walls that, rising stern and 

grim, 
Shut you, like sullen guards, within the 

dim 
Mysterious space no man may penetrate. 
But I can guess how the gray nuns 

chide : " Late 
Thou comest, sister ; still thy lamp 's to 

trim. 
Thy clear voice failed us in the evening 

hymn 
Wherewith the grace of Heaven we sup- 

phcate." 
Dear, as some paltry coin a lady might 
Fling to appease a beggar, ere you go 
Into your quiet cell and all is night, 
Tarry a moment at the casement ; throw 
The guerdon of your smile, his way to 

light, 
On your poor errant minstrel down be- 
low. 



FAUST AND HELENA. 



When all that life contains of rich and 

good, 
Being his own, had failed to bring con- 
tent 
To Faust, there rose the form wherein 

were blent 
All graces of all beauty's sisterhood : 
Victorious Helen, young as when first 

wooed 
By Theseus ; lovely as when heroes bent 
Their steps to death, and seas of blood 

were spent. 
To win her, fairest of the heavenly 

brood. 
But from his longing arms, that thus at 

last 
Embraced the shade of beauty and were 

blest, 



114 FAUST AND HELENA. 

She fled to pale Persephone's domain. 
Oh, risen again, sweet spirit! let the 

past 
Yield to the present ; here upon my 

breast 
Forget the courts that wait for thee in 

vain. 

II. 

As unto Faust, when all life holds had 
failed 

To bring content, the Beauteous One 
returned, 

Summoned from Hades, at whose sight 
gods burned. 

And goddesses with sudden envy paled. 

So, when the banquet of this world re- 
galed 

My spirit poorly, all for which it yearned 

Rose in thy presence, and my eyes dis- 
cerned 

In thine the whole of loveliness un- 
veiled. 

But from his clasping arms the vision 
fled 

Back to the silent realms, and once more 
left 



FA UST AND HELENA . 1 1 5 

Him lone, unsatisfied, and desolate. 
Sweet, vanish never, lest my heart, 

bereft, 
Consume itself with longing for its dead 
Delight, and to despair be consecrate. 



TWO FIGURES. 

One, like a creature born of brighter 

spheres 
Than these we know, a child of joy and 

light, 
Brought gladness, beauty, and love's 

blessed might. 
Worship and praise and reverence shorn 

of fears. 
And one, receiving all that most endears 
Soul unto soul, and maketh sweet the 

sight 
Of him that gives, the offering to re- 
quite, 
Placed in the other's hand an urn of 

tears. 
Love veiled his brows, and would have 

fled ; but lo ! 
There came a whisper from the giver's 

breast 



TIVO FIGURES, \\*J 

That stayed his fluttering wings and held 

him back : 
" Upon my head these gathered tears 

bestow 
A great and softening grace it else would 

lack, — 
The crown of sorrow. Dear, thy gift is 

best.'' 



SERVICE. 

Show me some way in which my soul 

may serve 
Thy soul, its nourisher ; teach me to 

say 
Some word to ease thy heart with, or to 

lay 
Soothing upon a sore and startled nerve ; 
Let me aspire to lend some gracious 

curve 
To the straight lines dividing day from 

day; 
Help me to hold the errant feet that 

stray 
In paths of constancy that never swerve. 
Sometimes I fail to reach thee, the 

ascent 
Being so steep to where thou dwelPst ; 

in vain 
My hands are rich with gifts thou canst 

not take. 



SERVICE, 119 

But could I see my life blood, for thy 

sake, 
To profit thee, flow in a crimson stain, 
Dear, I believe that I could die content. 



COMMUNION. 

One cannot draw the bars against the 
friends 

And guests that crowd for entrance at 
his gate ; 

He opes, inviting, nor the simple state 

Of his abode against their train defends. 

But there are chambers where the lover 
tends 

His sacred fires ; where no feet pene- 
trate, 

Save of immortals ; where, early and 
late, 

The breath of prayer and sacrifice as- 
cends. 

In such a spot as this, as in the shrine 

Of some white temple, in a dusk made 
sweet 

With incense, far from outer noise and 
heat. 



COMMUNION, 121 

And hollow haste of them that part and 

meet, 
Surrounded by dim presences divine, 
My soul communes eternally with thine. 



MISCELLANEOUS. 



IMPATIENCE. 

I SEE the ships go sailing, sailing ; 

My feet are fettered to the shore. 

Their prows with many a voyage are 
hoar. 
See ! on the far horizon paling, 

They sink and are no more. 

I see the birds go flying, flying ; 
In swaying line and whirling ring, 
'Twixt blue and blue, their way they 
wing ; 
But the swift flocks, through ether ply- 
ing, 
To me no message bring. 

I see the moon go riding, riding, 

Through heavenly paths, on golden 

wheels ; 
Her passing kiss the ocean feels, 

But, in his bosom swiftly hiding 
His joy, no word reveals. 



1 26 IMP A TIENCE, 

O golden moon, and snowy pinions 
Of birds that fly and ships that mate 
Their speed with birds, in royal state 

Sweep proudly through your wide do- 



mmions 



And I, — I only wait. 



IM FREIEN. 

ICH gehe immer und schweige : 
Dort oben ein Voglein singt ; 

Und durch die Fichtenzweige 
Die freundliche Sonne dringt. 

Die Blumen bliihn auf den Wiesen, 

Die Liifte wandelnd gehn ; 

Wait in der Feme, wie Riesen, 

Die hohen Gebirge stehn. 

Die lieblichen Schatten liegen 
Auf der Erde kiihler Brust ; 

Die weissen Wolken fliegen 

Im Himmel und tanzen vor Lust. 

Oh ! schone, theure Erde, 
Du ziehst mich an dein Herz 

Mit lockender Geberde ; 
Verschwunden ist jeder Schmerz. 



128 /-)/ FREIEN. 

Verschwunden sind Wehen und Leiden, 

Vergessen Eile und Hast ; 
Es wecken nur Wonne und Freuden ; 

Es bleiben nur Ruhe und Rast. 



PROPITIATION. 

A FRESH wind blows against the land ; 

The crested waves toss to and fro ; 
The swelling waves and shining sand 

Glitter like rifts of frozen snow. 

The breath of morn lies soft and dim 
Upon the sea ; the tender trace 

Of pink along the horizon's rim 
Her lips left in the azure space. 

So on the threshold of the morn, 
Before the unclosing door I wait ; 

Will hope expire ? Will joy be born ? 
How stands it in the book of fate ? 

O august sisters, sisters three, 

Who hold the distaff, spin the thread, 

And weave all human destiny 
Into a pattern bright or dread, 

9 



I30 PROPITIATION. 

I ask no boon of you ; desire 
And fear ye know ; I only bring 

In words that morning hours inspire 
Propitiatory offering. 

And though no altars rise apart 

Where men your awful praise re- 
hearse, 

I build an altar in my heart, 
And on it lay my pleading verse. 



MUSA LOQUITUR. 

Child ! thine aspiring sense divines, 
Doubtless, the voice that speaks to 

thee. 
Arise ! across yon tossing sea 

A path of light and glory shines. 

It leads unto the fields of art, 

Whose golden harvests thou may'st 
reap, 

And 'mid thy garnered treasures keep, 
If humble and devout of heart. 

Go, dwell with gods and heroes ; learn 
The lessons mighty marbles teach, 
And of the laurel-crowned their 
speech 

That through the centuries doth burn. 

Then lowly kneel at Nature's feet, 
And from her beating bosom draw 
Wisdom, without whose perfect law 

The best of art were incomplete. 



132 MUSA LOQUITUR. 

Listen, in climes of warmth and light, 
To the sweet-throated nightingales. 
Watch, till the morn's embrace pre- 
vails, 

The starry splendors of the night. 

On shores where placid waters roll. 
Invite the breezes of the South, 
Till their fleet kisses pass thy mouth 

And penetrate thine inmost soul. 

Then, when thy voice grows full and 
strong, 
When all within, without, is fair, 
Pierce with thy call the expectant air, 

And wake thy lyre to Lesbian song. 



WAKING. 

I WOKE once more. 

The sphered oce^n-spices lay, 
Empty and vast, be-:::::. ':e:*:re. 

Where we must blind" :r?.:r our wav 
From unknown shore to u:. : : vn shore. 

The moon's cold gleam 

Was faint with mom ; the stars had 
paled: 
But chanting one incessant theme 

Of loss and sorrow, they bewailed 
The fading of my happy dream. 

O bitter sea. 

They cried, whereon he floats alone 
And joyless, now his dream and he 

Have parted, whose divine light shone 
Cresting the waves of memory ! 



134 WAKING. 

O envious fate, 

Whose ruthless hand the vision tore, 
And robbed his bosom of the freight 

So dear, so matchless, that it bore. 
And left it bare and desolate ! 

So swelled the song 

From star to star ; and like a stain 
Upon the morning, rolled along 

The sea the echo of the strain, 
Ceaseless regret for grief and wrong. 

But then my heart 

That strove for courage, and would 
hide, 
If that might be, in smiles its smart, 
With words half true, half false, re- 
plied : 
Of man's great load each lifts his part. 

And why despair ? 

Surely these morning clouds shall 
change 
To evening clouds, and they will bear 

Fresh dreams along their fleecy range. 
And with new landscapes paint the air, 



WAKING. 135 

Until the last 

Deep sleep, when over all the woes 
Of love and life the earth is cast, 

And, stilled in absolute repose. 
Dreaming and waking both are past. 



THE ROSE AND THE STATUE. 

The Rose said to the Statue : Thou art 
cold 
And passionless, though beautiful 

and grand. 
I all my life exhale, while thou dost 
stand 
Unmoved, unmindful of the sweets I 
hold. 

The Statue answered to the Rose : Thou 
poor. 
Frail creature, toy and wanton of a 

day, 
I scarce can stoop to note thy swift 
decay ; 
Lo ! thou art fading now^ but / endure. 

Thus each reproached the other : neither 
thought 
What various means lead to an end 
the same ; 



THE ROSE AND THE STA TUE. 1 3 / 

How manifold is beauty, and what 
claim 
To the world's gratitude the other 
brought. 

O Statue ! shine in majesty, replete 
With high suggestions of eternal 

things. 
O Rose I yield up thy breath and die ; 
the wings 
Of loye receive it, for thy breath is 
sweet. 

One must be cold and suffer, — 't is 
earth's blight ; 
One must be warm and suffer. Thus 

the poles 
Touch in a law unchanging ; but the 
souls 
Of Statue and of Rose can ne'er unite. 



WONDERS. 



TO E. B. 



It is a wonder when the day 

Breaks from the portals of the night, 
And with her joyous smile and bright, 
Crowns the high hills where darkness 
lay, 
And floods the outstretching plains 
with light. 

A wonder when the bud perceives 
How tight its petals press, and grows 
Impatient of control, and throws, 

Nourished by dews of morns and eves, 
Wide in the air the perfect rose. 

Or when the gilded butterfly 

Wakes from the sleep in which were 

furled 
The joyous wings about him curled ; 



WONDERS. 139 

And breaks the shell, and, floating high. 
Goes on his glad way through the 
world. 

But greater marvels even than these 
Are such as harbor in the soul, 
Like words within some fast-sealed 
scroll, 

Concealing close what mysteries ! 

Till strikes the hour, and they unroll ; 

When eyes once cold, that looked 
askance, 
Kindle at ours, and send a ray 
Of warmth and cheer along our way, 

And with their deep and tender glance 
Herald the dawn of love's new day ; 

When lips we never thought to taste 
Thrill 'neath our own ; when fond 

arms reach 
About us ; when quick heart-beats 
teach 
How burns the breast we hold em- 
braced, — 
Love's signs more eloquent than 
speech. 



140 WONDERS, 

When these things are, should we not 
lift 
The heart to Heaven with thankful 

prayer 
That, working wonders everywhere, 
It wrought for us this gracious gift, 
Than which no other is more fair ? 

Dear, while I whisper, bend thy cheek 
A little nearer ; where my strong 
Deep praise and sweet new joy belong 

Thou know'st ; the sense of what I speak, 
The happy secret of my song. 



IN MEMORIAM. 

B. H. C. 

AT SORRENTO. 

I. 

The Summer strews with lavish hand 
Her gems upon this Southern shore ; 

With gold and emeralds glows the land, 
And sapphires form the ocean's floor. 

The sun a glittering ruby gleams ; 

Each star a topaz ; while the mist 
That o'er the mountain summits streams 

Is set with many an amethyst. 

Unto the evening's gates of pearl 
There leads an opal-paved way, 

And pearly are the clouds that curl 
About the bosom of the day. 



142 IN ME MORI AM, 

But oft upon the radiant scene 
Thy image, O my friend, appears, 

And all the jewels that have been 

Are changed to diamonds in my tears. 



II. 



With flowers and lights the altars 

blazed'; 
The white-robed priests, with crosses 

raised 
And banners fluttering, onward came 
'Mid many a candle's flickering flame. 
The gentle dusk its mantle wrapped 
About the landscape ; quiet lapped 
The land, until the pious throng 
Uplifted a thanksgiving song. 

Then, held on high, that over all 
With equal light its rays might fall, 
And equal grace to all aflbrd, 
Was borne the Body of the Lord. 
And, at its sight, upon their knees 
The people fell as when a breeze 
Sweeps o'er the summer earth at morn. 
Bowing a field of uncut corn. 



IN MEMORIAM. 1 43 

Why should thy spirit seem to shine 
Here, where a creed so unhke thine 
Lavished the treasures of its art, 
And through the senses touched the 

heart ? 
I know not ; but as with the rest 
I knelt, thy memory dear and blest, 
A living presence seemed to be, 
And sacred grew the hour to me. 



FROM NAPLES TO ROME. 

The sun set ; the wide Campagna 
Stretched about us like a sea, 

Miles on miles of billowy distance ; 
Scarce a limit seemed to be 
To the great immensity, 

Till upon the far horizon, 

Through the mist the hills rose 
higher, 

And upon three tallest summits, 
Shooting, hke a golden spire. 
Heavenwards, blazed a beacon fire. 

And we knew that in the evening 
Stillness, where the eternal dome 

Rises over tower and palace. 
Lay our long-desired home, — 
Lay the great enchantress, Rome. 



FROM NAPLES TO ROME. 1 45 

Watch-fires kindled by the ages, 
Where the passing moments pour 

All the present's shifting fuel 
On the accumulated store 
Till the pile glows more and more, 

To the grand and wondrous precincts 

Of her hoary walls invite. 
And, with longing for the morning 

To reveal them to our sight, 

Grateful hearts thanked God that 
nio:ht. 



GIARDINO GIUSTI. 

Clad in a garb of centuries, 

Like solemn warders of the past, 
Above its secret hoards amassed, 

Stand the funereal cypress-trees. 

And each to each they nod and wave, 
And whisper how the king of kings 
Is death, and how all human things 

Bloom but to wither in the grave. 

But, down below, the city lies. 

Near where the shining river runs 
Within whose breast a thousand suns 

Are mirrored from the cloudless skies. 

And crowded market-place and square 
And street with fluttering flags are 

gay, 
And all the glad life of to-day 

Pulses and surges everywhere. 



GIARDINO GIUSTL 1 47 

For 'neath the Past's almighty shade 
The careless Present keeps its cheer ; 
And though the end is sure and near, 

Yet we press onward undismayed. 

Verona, December ^ 1878. 



FOUNTAINS IN ROME. 

Before St. Peter's, like the wreaths 

Of spotless snow that o'er the bare 
Sad earth the pitying winter breathes, 

The proud jets flash into the air. 
But where the water breaks and falls 

And meets the sun, with every gem 
It glows wherewith shall deck her walls 

One day the new Jerusalem. 

While here, beside a mighty pile 

Where spoils of splendid ages gleam, 
The Triton, with an endless smile. 

Uplifts to heaven his slender stream. 
And there Bernini's grotesque taste 

With nymphs and gods the square 
adorns ; 
And giant groups in circle placed 

Fill the wide basins from their horns. 

Here Trevi, whose enchanted pool, 
When hearts with parting anguish 
burn, 



FOUNTAINS IN ROME. 1 49 

Will yield in draughts divinely cool 
Consoling promise of return ; 

Where come the doves to bathe and 
drink, 
And seek for shade amid the glare 

Of noon, beneath the fountain's brink. 
Or 'mid the mermen's clustering hair. 

But these, the body's thirst that slake, 

That pour in many a loved retreat 
Their fresh and limpid floods, and make 

The beauty of the Roman street, 
Seem but the images of those 

Deep sources 'mid the city's span 
That in their hoary breasts enclose 

The wondrous history of man. 

Rome ! of these fountains of thy lore 

Let my soul drink. Not all in vain 
Be oped for me thy matchless store. 

Nor closed without return again. 
Let some sweet stream of tuneful praise 

Towards thy clear heaven its voice 
uplift, 
Along whose flow shall shine and blaze 

The gracious rainbow of thy gift. 



A ROMA. 

CittA delle cittk ! 
Nel tuo cielo chiaro, ridente, 
Splende il sole col piu bel folgor ; 
Sul tuo suolo dove la storia 
Spande la plena del suo tesor, 
Brillan uniti 1' antica gloria 

E del presente 
Tutti i fior. 

Citta delle cittk ! 
Mentre il fiume corre in fretta, 
Che della vita si suol chiamar, 
Pallide ombre fra il tuo bello 
Spazio tornan a dimorar, 
E del tranquillo e calmo avello 

Che ci aspetta 
A favellar. 

Cittk delle cittk ! 
La tua fronte porta la soma 



A ROMA, 151 

D' ogni delizia e d' ogni desir ; 
Nel tuo seno contempliamo 
Giunti il riso e il sospir ; 
Sul tuo cuore impariamo 

A viver, oh ! Roma, 
E a morir. 



ON THE PINCIAN. 

Their dusky boughs the pine-trees lift 

Against the heaven's transcendent 
hue ; 
Nor does the faintest cloudlet drift 

One film across the perfect blue. 
The world lies bathed in sunshine ; hill 

And hollow, fountain, circling stream, 
Sparkle with light, and hushed and still 

The city, like a dream. 

So smiles the Present, while the Past, 

Mysterious, dim, about it lies, 
Guarding the kingdoms wide and vast, 

Invisible to human eyes ; 
But whispering to human ears. 

With speech more potent than our 
own, 
The story of the by-gone years, 

In low, perpetual tone. 



ON THE PINCIAN. 1 53 

It tells how soon the race was o'er 

For others ; how we soon shall be, 
With kings and emperors gone before, 

But shadows of reality ; 
And how we pass that they may come 

Whom Time's swift courses bear 
along ; 
How other lips, when ours are dumb, 

Shall blossom into song : 

As now we sing beside their graves 

Whose rhythmic laughter once made 
glad 
The earth, whose gentle memory craves 

From us more tender words than sad ; 
And as to-day o'er quick and dead 

Extends the sky's unsullied space. 
So ever o'er us all shall spread 

The infinite embrace ; 

That change is not ; that destiny 
Rules with a calm, impartial sway ; 

That to all eyes is given to see 
The generous beauty of the day. 

And, last sweet comfort unto men, — 
The thought an armor 'gainst de- 
spair, — 



154 ON THE PI NCI AN. 

Since this world is so blest, shall, then, 
A future be less fair ? 

With thoughts like these of peace and 
rest. 

Amid the noon's effulgent light. 
Is soothed, not terrified, the breast, 

With shadows of the coming night ; 
And here within the soul's true home, 

Beneath thy calm and tranquil sky. 
While making life all joy, O Rome, 

Thou teachest how to die. 



AFTERMATH. 

J. W., DIED MARCH, 1 879. 

Brave Heart, grown cold, didst thou 
not know 
Full recognition when the field 
Was green in June, and glad to yield 

Its wealth to them who come to mow ? 

And were there some who doubted, 
some, 
Unwitting that perchance thy peer 
Moved not in distant ranks or near, 

Upon whose lips thy praise grew dumb ? 

Such is the meed of genius, such 
Experience proves the frequent fate 
That 'mid the small attends the great ; 

They, bringing little, sneer at much. 



156 AFTERMATH. 

But the late summer cometh, when 
Once more his scythe the reaper sets, 
And for the season's store-house gets 

A new sweet crop to profit men. 

So they as yet unborn shall reap 
The harvests of thy steadfastness 
And thy soul's noble law, and bless 

The mighty "fruits of them that sleep." 



A PRAYER. 

Not through my merits but your grace, 
Immortal powers that set me free, 

I stand before you face to face, 
And share in your eternity. 

I know beyond this path so fair 
And joyous opes the dark abyss ; 

I know that wreck and ruin there 
May be the end of too much bhss. 

But spare me ! If my humble dread 
Appease the Fate yourselves obey. 

Oh, on my bowed but crowned head 
Let not your shafts descend to slay ! 

Your altars all I light with fires 

Where deepest awe and reverence 
meet ; 

And garlanded with gained desires 
I cling, still suppliant, to your feet. 



XAIPE! 

Hail and farewell ! Thus in our brief 
career 
The greetings follow ; for our paths 
unite 
But to diverge, and those so near and 
dear 
To-day to-morrow vanish out of sight. 

But, brave and patient heart, feel no 
dismay ; 
For though they pass as 't were be- 
hind a veil, 
Thy dear ones are not lost, but all thy 
way 
Is gladdened with their voices crying 
Hail! 

And when thou standest on the shadowy 
brink 
Of the profound Unknown, thy part- 
ing knell 



XAIPE! 159 

Shall be their psalm of love, and thou 
shalt sink 
On sleep's soft breast, soothed by 
their fond farewell ! 



SCHUMANN'S SYMPHONY IN 
B FLAT MAJOR. 

A TRUMPET-CALL the slumbering sense 
awakes, 
And challenges to action and to fight. 
But swift the plumed line of battle 
breaks, 
And, breathing o'er the brows of love 
alight, 
The rhythm, adrift with human joys and 
w^oes, 
Goes wandering with a question and a 

sigh 
Throughout all life's expectancy, to 
die 
At last in notes of rapture, as it rose. 
The patriot Swiss, who clasped the 
hosdle spears. 
And through his bleeding breast carved 
freedom's way. 



SCHLWAXX'S SYMPHOXY. l6l 

Had known his peer on many a glorious 

day. 
Had Schumann's muse been born of 

earher years ; 
For when such strains as these the 

heart do greet 
Great deeds seem easy, and to die were 

sweet 



JOACHIM. 

Across the strings the sympathetic bow 
Swept, held and guided by a master- 
hand. 
Like the enchanted beauty long ago 
Who slumbered, chained by magic bar 

and band, 
Till on her lips the appointed prince did 

press 
The liberating kiss and she awoke, 
So, 'neath the bow's long-drawn desired 

caress, 
Swift into full and perfect being broke, 
Freed from the violin, the prisoned 

tones : 
In myriad measure swelled the melody. 
Bewailing now with sobs and broken 

moans 
The bondage past, now joyous to be 

free : 
And as the strain began to rise and roll, 
The soul of music met the artist's soul. 



RUBINSTEIN. 

Amid expectant silence, grave and still, 
He laid his hands upon the palHd keys. 
Straightway the notes began to throb and 

thrill. 
Mirrored in sound the mighty mysteries, 
The fathomless of human hfe, its needs 
And hopes, doubts, fears, fancies and 

questionings 
Appeared, and last the tramp of funeral 

steeds. 
And trappings of the grave. On mighty 

wings 
Uprose the stirring chords till the great 

dead 
Heard where they wandered on the 

shadowy way. 
Hushed for a moment was their solemn 

tread, 



164 RUBINSTEIN. 

And athwart space a whisper seemed to 

stray, — 
Hail ! great interpreter of god-like men ! 
Beneath thy quickening touch We live 

again. 



CHOPIN. 

The polonaise is danced ; the waltz is 

done ; 
The guests are gone ; but still the vague 

regret 
That breathed through all things since 

the fete begun, 
Waits, and unrest and longing linger 

yet. 
Into the night I there lie repose and 

peace. 
Hark ! how the wandering voices meet 

and flow 
In rhythm ; hear now those calm accords 

and low, 
Like dim forebodings of a swift release. 
"Whom the gods love die young." So, 

Chopin, thou 
Heard'st early, through the harmonies 

that stirred 
Thy poet brain, the inevitable " Now ! " 



1 66 CHOPIN. 

Mad'st answer, smiling, to the summon- 
ing word, 

And, sung to sleep on Music's tender 
breast, 

Sank'st gladly into an untroubled rest. 



" MEIN TAG WAR HEITER, 

GLUCKLICH MEINE 

NACHT." 

FROM HEINE. 

My day was joyous, happy was my night. 
My people's plaudits rang whene'er the 

lyre 
Of poesy I struck ; my song's sweet fire 
Has kindled many a flame intense and 

bright. 
My summer blossoms still, but piled 

and stored 
Within my barns have I each golden ear 
Of corn, and all that made the world so 

dear 
Now must I leave — leave all I so 

adored. 
The hand falls from the harp-strings ; 

shattered lie 
The fragments of the glass with life re- 
plete, 



1 68 MEIN TAG WAR HE ITER, 

That gayly on my haughty h'ps I pressed. 
O God ! how hateful-bitter 't is to die ! 
O God ! how heavenly 't is to live, how 

sweet, 
In this enchanting little earthly nest ! 



TO R. W. E. 

As sweeps a wind at morning, cool and 

clear, 
Against the wavering mists that break 

and flee, 
Leaving the wide blue prairies of the sea 
Outstretched in sunlit splendor far and 

near ; 
As, in the early breeze's fresh embrace, 
The autumn flowers shake off their sleep 

and shine, 
Gold, purple, 'mid a blaze of scarlet vine, 
And all the fields are clothed with joy 

and grace, — 
So, loftiest Teacher ! sweep thy winged 

words 
Against the mists and error's of our 

days. 
So to thy voice respond a thousand 

chords 
That slumbered, thrilling to perfected 

praise. 



I/O TO R. W. E. 

And 'neath the breath of thine inspiring 

mood, 
The soul grows strong and life seems 

sweet and good. 



CHAUCER. 

A LIMPID source, a clear and bubbling 
spring, 

Born in some wooded dell unknown of 
heat, 

Above whose breast the leafy branches 
meet 

And kiss, and earthward wavering shad- 
ows fling : 

Upon whose brink the perfumed flower- 
cups swing 

'Neath the light tread of hurrying insect 
feet; 

Such, Chaucer, seems the sturdy note 
and sweet 

In thine unfettered song reechoing. 

Hence they who sometimes weary of the 
play 

Of fountains and the artificial jets 

Which in gay parks and gardens dance 
and leap, 



1/2 CHAUCER, 

Turn back again into that forest-way 
Where thy fresh stream the grass and 

mosses wets 
That slumber on its margin cool and 

deep. 



AT SEA. 



What lies beyond the far horizon's 

rim ? 
Ah ! could our ship but reach and an- 
chor there, 
What wondrous scenes, what visions 

bright and fair 
Would meet the eyes that gazed across 

the brim ! 
But though we crowd the canvas on and 

trim 
Our barque with skill, the proud waves 

seem to bear 
No nearer to that goal, and everywhere 
Stretches an endless circle wide and 

dim. 
So do we dream, treading the narrow 

path 
Of life, between the bounds of day and 

night, 



174 AT SEA. 

To-morrow turns this page so often 

conned: 
But when to-morrow cometh, lo ! it hath 
The limits of to-day, and in its light 
Still lies far off the unknown heaven be- 
yond. 

II. 

We sail the centre of a ceaseless round, 
Forever circled by the horizon's rim ; 
And fondly deem that from that far-o££ 

brim 
Some sign will rise or some glad tidings 

sound. 
But no word comes, nor aught to break 

the bound 
Of sea and sky all day with distance 

dim, 
And vanished quite when darkness, chill 

and grim, 
About the deep her sable shroud has 

wound. 
So on the seas of life and time we drift, 
Within the circling limits of our fate, 
Expectant ever of some solving breath. 
But no sound comes, no pitying hand 

doth Hft 



AT SEA. 175 

The veil nor faith nor love can pene- 
trate, 

And to our dusk succeeds the dark of 
death. 



A VOYAGE. 

" My soul is an enchanted boat." — Shelley. 

Let us float on the downward-flowing 

stream, 
Like to a happy lover with his bride. 
My heart is still, my soul is satisfied, 
Since thou art the companion of my 

dream. 
Above our heads the golden planets 

gleam, 
Fields strewn with flowers stretch by the 

river's side, 
The rippling waves make music as we 

glide ; 
Life, love and gladness is that music's 

theme. 
Whence did we come into this magic 

boat? 
We know not, neither whither we are 

bound. 



A VOYAGE. 177 

For fate is silent and its end unseen. 
Let us float on — what should we do but 

float? 
Until we pass into some sea profound 
Where all shall be as if it had not been. 



KINGS. 

" The real king that God makes is the man who melts 
all wills into his own. " Carlyle. 

I READ of kings and princes, how they 

sought 
With flattering word and deed to hold 

the dower 
Their sires bequeathed, and with new 

grants of power 
The sufferance of the half-freed nations 

bought. 
How vain and foolish is their race, I 

thought, 
Who strut upon the stage their little 

hour. 
Yet, like the meanest mortal, in the 

flower 
Of pride and pomp, must perish and be 

naught. 
Then fell the seer's words across my 

page: 



KINGS, 179 

The only king and sovereign by God's 
grace, 

Is he who melts all wills into his own. 

When this one comes to claim his heri- 
tage, 

How we fall back to give the monarch 
place, 

And bend the obedient knee before his 
throne ! 



WEAVING. 

The fair-armed Helen in her fragrant 

room 
In Priam's palace, while the bloody- 
fight 
Raged in the plain below, beyond her 

sight, 
Worked at a purple garment on the 

loom. 
Into the web she wove pictures of gloom 
And glory, deeds of prowess and of 

might. 
Labors of Greeks and Trojans till black 

night 
Enwrapt them and they came upon their 

doom. 
Thus on the spreading loom of Time we 

weave 
The garment of our life ; the web we 

crowd 
With shifting images by fate allowed 



WEAVING. I8l 

To fill from nothingness our short re- 
prieve ; 

And haste the work although so loth to 
leave 

What, being finished, serves us for a 
shroud. 



A SHATTERED GLASS. 

Among the curious trifles travellers 

show, 
Are bits of flashing, rainbow-tinted 

glass, 
Dropped by the hand of Time, that in 

the grass 
Of seldom-trodden fields half-hidden 

glow. 
What cups and bowls they fashioned 

who may know ? 
But tales they tell to the new men that 

pass 
Of old-time feasts and revels, and, alas ! 
Of pride and joy that perished long ago. 
That was a beauteous vase from which 

we drank 
Sunshine and smiles and love's sweet 

potion till 
From hands too weak to bear its weight 

it sank, 



A SHATTERED GLASS. 1 83 

And its frail rainbows shattered. If you 

will, 
Let us take up the fragments while we 

thank 
A gracious Heaven that these are left 

us stiU. 



SURPLUS. 

With fullest sunshine that yon heaven 

reveals 
Glittered the temple-walls of his abode ; 
And life on him those richest gifts be- 
stowed 
Which else with niggard hand it most 

conceals. 
The obstacles at which the faint soul 

feels 
Its strength give way, were crushed, 

when not the goad 
To new success, like pebbles on the 

road, 
Scarce noticed 'neath a conqueror's 

chariot-wheels. 
But his heart trembled, for he wisely 

said : 
I am unworthy of this perfect feast : 
Lo ! I bring offerings to each jealous 

god; 



SURPLUS. 185 

Let not one be forgot, not even the least, 
If so I may escape the avenging rod : 
Of state too prosperous I am afraid. 



FLORENCE. 

Like some fair woman on whose breast 

are hung 
Jewels of price, so decked from side to 

side 
With towers and domes and palaces, in 

pride 
And state she sits the circling hills 

among. 
Into her lap the centuries have flung 
Their splendid spoils, and art with art 

has vied 
To weave her charmed raiment to abide 
And keep her ever beautiful and young. 
And those who pass beneath her potent 

sway 
She welcomes nobly, and with royal 

mien 
Points where her garnered stores of 

treasure he. 



FLORENCE. 1 8/ 

Take of them what you will, she seems 

to say: 
Here are no limits, for a queen am I, 
Generous in giving as befits a queen. 



SHELLEY. 



He sang the Titan's woes and victory, 
Himself a Titan through whose giant 

mind 
Astounding shapes swept swifter than 

the wind, 
And than the wind more grand and high 

and free. 
Ever his ardent vision seemed to see 
Amid the glorious structures he de- . 

signed 
Of poetry, the weal of human-kind, 
A reign of hope and love and liberty. 
Stilled is that heart, so loyal and so 

brave, 
Within the compass of a funeral urn, 
Beneath the shade of cypresses and 

pines. 
But sweet as violets blooming on the 

o^rave 



SHELLEY. 189 

His voice remains, and bright his proud 

verse shines 
As in the skies the deathless planets 

burn. 



n. 

COR CORDIUM. 

All that the water and the fire have 

spared. 
The purifying elements that blend 
With the remembrance of thy early end 
Whom the gods loved, now with the 

earth is shared. 
Amid a scene of beauty unimpaired 
By blot or stain, upon thy grave descend 
The cypress shadows while above extend 
Such realms of splendor as thy verse 

declared. 
O Heart of Hearts I repose beneath the 

sod. 
The immortal spirit marvellously great 
Has found on heights of fame its glorious 

seat. 
With flaming wings and garments of a 

god, 



190 SHELLEY. 

Upon those mountain-peaks it keeps its 

state 
While Time rolls up our plaudits to its 

feet. 

Rome, 1881. 



ROME AFTER 1870. 

Mother 01 Xauons. on whose classic 
brow 

Glittered in turn the imperial diadem, 

The royal fillet, and that brighter gem 

With which free men their chosen chief 
endow ; 

To-Kiay's fresh crown prints nobler fur- 
rows now 

Upon thy front than left by aU of them. 

New pearls of promise deck thy gar- 
ment's hem. 

And thy pulse quivers at a people's vow. 

Child of these later times ! yield to thy 
land 

Again the blessings it has rendered 
thee : 

Last, precious conquest of a valiant 
band, 

Weary of bondage, strugg'irg to be 
free, 



192 ROME AFTER 1870. 

Resolved on union, — be the strong 

right Hand 
As still thou art the Heart of Italy ! 



TO ROME. 



A GARDEN of Armida wherein flows 

A stream of sweet oblivion, where the 

roar 
And din of far-off fights is heard no 

more, 
Where for all wounds some healing bal- 
sam grows ; 
A dream in which no dread of waking 

throws 
Its darkling shadow o'er the fancy's 

store, 
But where the radiant-fingered hours 

outpour 
Long draughts of rest, refreshment, and 

repose; 
Both these, — a vision, an enchanted 

space, — 
City of cities 1 when the eyes have seen 
13 



194 '^O ROME. 

Thy deeper mysteries, dost thou appear. 
Fain would the heart, in homage to thy 

grace 
And grandeur, cry that the wide world 

might hear : 
Hail ! mighty Rome ! my mistress and 

my queen ! 

II. 

Like an o'erwhelming wind that sweeps 

along 
The path on which glad bands of pil- 
grims come, 
Lashing their limbs till they grow stiff 

and numb, 
Smiting their lips and robbing them of 

song; 
So do thy mighty shadows move among 
The daily shows, upon their fronts the 

sum 
And story of the Past ; and speech is 

dumb, 
And dead desire before that wondrous 

throng. 
What should he prate whose ear is 
strained to catch 



TO ROME. 195 

Their voiceless accents ? how torment 
the heart 

With thoughts aside from their imperi- 
ous sway ? 

Back, every crowding image, while we 
watch 

The spirits' progress, and e'en thou de- 
part, 

O Love ! unanswered ; this is not thy 
day. 



III. 

As in the presence of the loved one fly, 

For him who loves, the golden-wingM 
hours. 

So 'mid the circle of thy charm, with 
showers 

Of gifts and benisons the days go by. 

And as his mistress still the lover's eye 

Invests with new-found beauties, so 
fresh flowers 

Upon thy bounteous lap the lavish Pow- 
ers 

Seem to our dazzled sight to multiply. 

And one divinely-drunken spirit nods 



196 TO ROME, 

Above the cup thou bear'st, crying: 
'T is fraught 

With joy ; drink deep while the wine 
overflows. 

But one more wise a warning word be- 
stows ; 

Heart ! let thy bliss be tempered by the 
thought — 

Excess of rapture pleases not the gods. 



ANTINOUS OF THE VATICAN. 

Antinous, upon thy brow of snow 
It seems as if the gathered sunshine lay 
Of ages, and about thy sweet hps play 
The same glad smiles that wreathed 

them long ago. 
Thy curls' luxuriant clusters seem to 

glow 
With the old life ; we almost hear thee 

say 
The word thou usedst to murmur in 

that day 
When love's kiss burned on thy mouth's 

perfect bow. 
O sweetest youth that ever human eyes 
Have gazed upon, thou mak'st the heart 

grow warm 
Of him who lifts his glance to thee 

above. 
And thine, besides the charm of face 

and form, 



198 ANTINOUS OF THE VATICAN. 

His higher fame of whom the poet 

cries: 
" How noble is his end who dies for 

love ! " 1 

1 " Che bel fin fa chi ben amando more ! " 

Petrarch. 



A BAS-RELIEF. 

A WHITE-ROBED priestess by an altar 
stands, 

Whence breath of flowers and flame of 
sacrifice 

With intermingled smoke of incense 
rise, 

Serving the god with fair and stainless 
hands. 

Up an ascending pathway come the 
bands 

Of worshippers with gifts ; their yearn- 
ing eyes 

Turned towards the goal that in the dis- 
tance Hes 

Like some cloud structure reared in sun- 
set lands. 

But now the shrine is reached ; each one 
has bowed 

Before the gracious presence ; each has 
passed, 



200 A BAS-RELIEF. 

Leaving his offering, of the adoring 
throng. 

Garlands and jewels there are strewn ; 
and last 

A smihng youth, bright-haired and eager- 
browed. 

Lays at the altar's foot a wreath of song. 



ADDIO A ROMA. 

Serba, o cittk ! un silenzio maestoso ; 
Tu di chi parte non senti il dolore ; 
Tu sei eterna, e in immortal splendore 
Brilla il volto tuo, alto e luminoso, 
Verso di te lo sgnardo lacrimoso 
Volge nelP ultima ora il viaggiatore, 
E col pianto misto, dal triste cuore 
Prorompe il suo discorso amoroso. 
Cara e beata ! ti cinge il pensier raio, 
Come le braccia nelP ardente amplesso 
D' amor 1' oggetto stringon del desio. 
Tu che mi porti d' ogni mal 1' obblio, 
E il mio cammin rischiari col riflesso 
D' un indicibil gioia — addio, addio ! 



ON LEAVING ITALY. 

As one who gazes on a dear dead face, 
When all is o'er, and cannot let it go, 
But with hot tears, and accents weak 

with woe, 
Pleads for one last reprieve, one little 

space, 
Before the grave shall cover all that 

grace 
Which even in death the palHd features 

show, 
Knowing that while the stream of life 

shall flow, 
No newer love this old one can replace ; 
So do I turn once more, and yet once 

more, 
Land of my love, my lingering look on 

thee. 
A month, — a week, — a day ; — it may 

not be : 



ON LEA VING ITAL V. 203 

So sounds the message that the further 

shore 
Cries to its messenger th' unfeeling sea. 
Farewell, O Italy 1 my Italy ! 



Love Poems 

and Sonnets 



BY 

OWEN INNSLY 




T 



SitoM £tHtuni 



BOSTON 

A. WILLIAMS AND COMPANY 
Old CoftKKR Bookstokk 

1882 



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